Let Us Be Brave
by EbonyIvoryy
Summary: Edward's journeys out west are coming to an end. However, at the end of one journey, is the beginning of another. Just how far has his courage come? / Post 108, eventual EdWin; moral values tucked deep within the story. In-progress.
1. Chapter I

_**Let Us Be Brave;  
>Chapter I<br>**_

* * *

><p><em>Crunch.<em>

_Klak!_

_Crunch._

_Klak!_

His boots crunched through the snow, two sets of heavier feet following close behind, sounding like a slowly approaching Calvary charge. The air around them was blistering. Cold yet solemn. No gusts of wind, no thunder or lightening. They could see their breath through each exhale—a small cloud of white. After the climate they came from, all three were most certainly not used to this. It was probably a mere ten degrees over zero, making them shiver with each step.

Edward stopped to observe what was around him. A quaint town filled with timber-framed buildings. Stone and brick chimneys were erect on rooftops, piping out warm smoke. Condensation covered every window. The whitest of snow blanketed all surfaces—pavement, street lamps, car tops, benches, roofs. In the center of it all, lied a large water fountain. The fountain was made of solid concrete, while in the middle, stood a sculpture of a man riding a horse, victorious as he rose his sword into the air. Water in the fountain had iced over, mere proof of how freezing it was.

He looked at his own reflection in the ice. Piercing gold eyes stared back at him. The young man that owned those eyes had gotten considerably taller, with his blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, uneven strands framing his well-sculpted face. A brown coat covered his broad shoulders, the slight view of a white dress shirt and dark vest beneath it, as well as a red tie around his collar. He may have gotten tanner from his recent travels, though that was hard to tell through the ice mirror.

It has been twenty-six months since Ed last saw this place. And after all this time, he had returned. Alas, they finally made it to North City.

"Let's go to a cafe or something," Darius suggested, rubbing his stomach with a meaty hand. "I'm starving."

Of course. Instead of focusing on the cold, he's focused on hunger. Makes sense for a chimera, after all.

Heinkel seemed to agree, foaming at the mouth as he smelt food from afar. But it wasn't due to his animal-based senses, because Ed could smell it too. Pastries baking and coffee brewing. The light whiff of stew was sent through his nostrils, too.

Ed was the third to agree. "Yeah, I could go for some food..." Besides, it would be nice to huddle in some place warm.

_**-xxx-**_

All three men reclined in their chairs, jaws hanging open as a grateful hand rested on their gut. They certainly had chowed down. A little tea, a lot of coffee, a basket of dinner rolls, a pot of stew, and an after-treat of pastries was plenty. Heinkel and Darius let out low groans of both satisfaction and misery. Edward chewed on his silver fork, resisting the urge to unfasten his belt and free his abdomen from its restraint.

The young man has traveled practically everywhere in the past few months, so it's been a while since he's had a bite of Amestrian cuisine. In spite of the excellent food out west, he kind of missed the food of his home land.

"Mmmm... now _that _was a feast," Heinkel moaned, his blonde beard twitching in the non-existent breeze.

Edward's eye twitched along with it.

Though Darius's facial hair remained the same, Heinkel, for some unknown reason, deciding to stop shaving altogether, earning himself the look of a lumberjack.

"You need to shave," Edward commented out-of-the-blue. His eyes of amber narrowed.

Heinkel exchanged glances, glaring daggers at the young man. "_What's wrong_ with my beard." His voice pitched up in a warning manner, daring Ed to insult him again.

"It looks like a bird's nest." The words so easily slipped from his lips. No matter how old Ed got, he never failed to insult and make rude comments.

Heinkel's eyebrow's furrowed. "I dare you to say that again, kid!" While exclaiming this, he slammed his fist to the table. That earned a lot of turning heads.

"YOU'RE BEARD IS RETARDED!" Ed shot back, as if Heinkel had said something terrible to earn his vindictive fury.

"SHUT UP, YOU LITTLE SNOT! IT'S MANLY!"

A vein throbbed in Edward's head at the word 'little', but fortunately, he _had _matured to some degree. "MANLY MY ASS!"

More people in the cafe looked over, puzzlement on their nameless faces. Darius sighed in embarrassment. He wanted to assure them that this happened all the time, but was too annoyed to speak. Even back when they traveled with Greed, Ed often sparked an argument with the chimeras, which would almost turn into an all-out public brawl. Not the best idea when you're trying to hide from the military.

"I'D LIKE TO SEE _YOU _GROW A BEARD LIKE THIS!"

"WHY THE HELL WOULD I EVEN WANT TO?"

By now, another fist had slammed on the table—Edward's this time—rattling the empty plates and cups. They continued to roar at one another without fail.

Before the cafe's owner could kick them out, Darius pulled the two through the front door, mumbling his apologies. Within minutes, the fury simmered down. They were standing in the cold, snowy street once again, their hands stuffed in coat pockets as they huffed visible air. Their suitcases sat by their feet, waiting to be held.

Darius griped all the while, "So now that you two got us unwanted in _another _place, where do we go?"

Edward shrugged, answering casually, "Well, we have to head toward Northern Command, but I think it's best we check into a hotel first. We don't need to visit the fort immediately, and Miles said it takes a while to get permission anyway, even if I am the former FullMetal Alchemist."

"Alright, then," the burly man replied, itching the dark facial hair on his chin. "If I remember correctly, there's a hotel two blocks away."

With those suggestions, they headed off. They didn't have much of a choice, anyway. Last time they were up north, the three were being chased by military personnel and driving like lunatics in attempts for escape. They stayed with two elderly doctors—not some nice hotel. Like Darius suggested, though, they walked about two blocks and found themselves in front of a hotel building named _Bordeaux_. It looked fairly attractive, but hopefully not too ritzy for Ed's tastes.

As they entered, they were greeted by a doorman. Then they went to the front desk. There, a young lady assigned them to their room numbers and handed them the copper key. They were in B12, on the second floor. Every wall was white in the Bordeaux, and the carpet was a bloody red. Once their eyes came across B12, Heinkel tried unlocking the door.

It wouldn't budge.

He frowned, grunting at his misfortune.

"What's the problem?" Darius asked, irritation trailed in his voice.

The other burly man simply replied, "The key doesn't work."

"...Well did you you twist it the wrong way?"

"What am I, stupid?"

Edward rolled his eyes and exhaled, thinking that the chimeras sounded like a middle-aged married couple. Just when they were about to ramble on about something so simple as to the key, he pushed past them and stated, "Let's just go get another one."

There wasn't much argument there, Darius and Heinkel following close behind him. When they returned to the desk, Edward explained the situation to the lady. She was sure she had the right key, being that the engraved number on it was 'B12'. In apprehension, she called to one of her many employees.

A woman in her early fifties came into the lobby, dressed from head-to-toe in a red, white, and black hotel uniform; a black pencil skirt, black heels, red overcoat, white dress shirt. A gold necklace wrapped around her pale neck, being the small shape of a heart locket, but very pretty nevertheless. Her honey hair was pinned back into a bun, only few tiny strands framing her face. Her eyebrows were plucked thin, lips being just as thin and twice as rosy. Her pale skin was sickly looking, almost as if she had fallen victim to an illness. She was very skinny, tall, almost to the point of looking frail. But of all the characteristics of this woman, there was something about her eyes... a dull gray-blue that gave off certain facial expressions...

Something about this woman's features looked oddly familiar. It was not a warm, fuzzy feeling, though. It was an eerie feeling, almost sickening, as if Ed has looked into those eyes before. Like a memory not wanted—suppressed.

"Will you go check them into their rooms, please?" the other, younger lady asked. "They claim the key does not work. I think it might either be a problem with the lock itself."

The woman so familiar was handed three sets of keys. She smiled at the three men and instructed them to follow her. They did so, like any gentleman should. The whole way upstairs, Ed couldn't stop thinking about it. He _knew _he saw those eyes somewhere. He _knew _it.

He tried to take a gander at her name-tag, though it was hard to lay eyes on. Maybe if he read the name, the memory would come flooding back.

The lady stuck one key into the lock, jiggled it a bit, pushed on it, and voila—the door was open.

"I apologize. Some of the locks in these rooms are old, so you'll need to shake it a bit for the door to open," she explained. "May I get you anything while you're here?"

"Nah, we're okay, ma'am," Heinkel nodded. "Thank you very much."

"Of course." She smiled once again, her lips curling up in an affable gesture. Edward could've sworn he's seen that smile, too.

She then continued, "If you ever need anything, I'm just down the hall. My name is Ms. Kimblee."

With that, she waved her goodbyes and began strutting away. However, it took a few moments for the full extent of that name to set in.

_'Her name is...' _Heinkel began to think in astonishment.

_'Ms...'_ Darius continued his thoughts like telepathy.

And last but not least, Edward. _'...KIMBLEE?'_

Maybe it was just a coincidence. Surely there was more than one person with that surname in the world. Surely...

Still, Ed being Ed, he couldn't take that chance.

"Excuse me? Ma'am?" He jogged up to her, concern filled in his orbs. She turned back to him, a questioning look crossing her face.

"Did you just say your last name is Kimblee?"

_**-xxx-**_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I know I'm supposed to continue that 520 cenz story, but this came to mind, and I HAD to write it. xD; Muse is a beautiful thing. I will update soon. Hope y'all enjoyed this~ Expect some EdWin in the future. Possibly Royai. I dunno. Don't forget to review, lovelies!

**Disclaimer: **I KNOW FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST BELONGS TO ARAKAWA GET OFF MY BACK. ;A;


	2. Chapter II

_**Let Us Be Brave;  
>Chapter II<strong>_

The ceiling provided no comfort to Mr. Elric. It was merely a bland, light surface, separating each floor. It had no expressions, no warmth, no opening arms to nurse him back to happiness. Yet, why did he continue to stare at it? Why were his pupils unable to look away? Why was his gaze so everlasting, that he didn't dare to bore his sights into anything else? After all, it was just a layer of cement and wooden planks. Nothing worthy of gawking at.

There he lied, back against a twin-sized bed, not bothering to pull the crimson sheets over him as his head rested on a lumpy pillow. Hell, the mattress wasn't even that comfortable—not that he was one to complain. He's had to sleep in trenches, leaf piles, cushion-less train seats, wooden benches, and even rocks coated with poison ivy. In his travels, it was honestly rare that he'd sleep in a decent bed.

One leg was thrown over the other, as Ed had not bothered to take off his shoes, nor his coat. His fingers were intertwined, thumbs twiddling subconsciously. The lines of his forehead were slightly crinkled, stuck in his signature expression—furrowed eyebrows and a sagging frown. He stared directly upward, not one noise breaking his trance. And thus, we come back to the ceiling.

Stupid, ugly, gray ceiling. With its stupid, ugly, bumpy texture and perfect alignment to the wall. The only purpose it served was to be stupid and ugly.

Wait... why was Edward loathing the ceiling?

Maybe because he didn't know what else to loath. The one person he so despised was now receiving sympathy, of all emotions. Sympathy. That bastard didn't deserve sympathy.

Suddenly, the voice of that woman came flooding back... He thought of a memory from just an hour ago, when he had bumped into Zolf J. Kimblee's mother.

_**-xxx-**_

"You... knew my son?" Ms. Kimblee sat down, a look of shock-and-awe in her eyes. After it was confirmed that she had relation to the Crimson Alchemist, Darius and Heinkel suggested that they talk in private, so they relocated to the hotel room.

Edward nodded slowly, a little wary about talking to this woman. For all he knew, she could be just as psychopathic as her son was, if not more.

Immediately, Ms. Kimblee jumped up from her seat. "Where is he? Is he safe? Tell me where he is!" There was desperation in her voice. Her dull eyes were tremulous. She leaned toward the three, fists clenching in worry.

They all knew very well where Kimblee was. Buried in the cavernous void of souls, somewhere beyond life. Or depending on how some looked at it, he was at a military memorial, being nothing but a tombstone erected from dirt and grass.

Edward sighed deeply. He knew explaining this would be a long one, and he was eager to know just who gave birth to the man who took his childhood friend hostage.

Giving one look to the chimeras, he decided to make this explanation as brief as possible, not mentioning much about the Promised Day or Homunculi.

By the end of his explanation, Ms. Kimblee was too wary to stand, lips and eyebrows quivering. It may have been way too much news for one woman.

All Edward could say was a dry, "I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to do. It's not like he was sad that the madman was murdered. Sure, it could have played out differently, but he wasn't as naive as he was at fifteen. He knew that Kimblee would've stayed the same, alive or not, and that sense of mercy would get Ed into a lot of trouble.

For a few minutes, the room was still. No talking, no movement. Finally, Ms. Kimblee was able to recover from her shock.

"I... I'm really s-sorry that he caused you so much t-trouble," she stuttered out. "...Y-You have to believe me; Zolf is a good boy, or at least he used to be..." The middle-aged woman paused, then changed her expression to a serious one, muttering to herself, "But with how his father was... w-well, I wouldn't be surprised."

Edward's face tightened. Darius and Heinkel exchanged glances.

"...Could you tell us more, Ms. Kimblee?"

* * *

><p>It was times like these that Miles couldn't help but wonder — what is the cost of innocence? Does every child taking a step toward adulthood experience corruption, or is it just those who sell their souls to the military?<p>

Bloody twin orbs, shielded by shades, followed the movements of little children rolling around in the sidewalk's snow. Toothy smiles brightened their fresh faces. What's more, they were so simply... happy. Ecstatic, even. Those children were perfectly content with mundane matters; they didn't need a rifle in hand to find excitement. That fact alone fascinated Miles.

He continued his stroll down the ice-paved sidewalk, a gloved hand stuffed in his uniform pocket. Though his past few years in Ishval were never boring, he admitted that he missed the essence of the north. With its frosty air, its simplicity.

A car's motor traveled down the street, advancing from behind him. Once it landed to his side, the motor slowed, and a foot eased on the breaks. By the time Miles had looked over, the car door opened, revealing the passenger in the back seat.

The man raised an eyebrow. "General?"

**_-xxx-_**

Olivier Mira Armstrong crossed one leg over the other, her posture upright—ladylike, yet powerful. Confident. Though she was two of those things, ladylike was most certainly not a quality of the General. The mere word makes her seethe with fury, clenching those fists so tightly that her knuckles turned ghostly white.

The car drove slowly, letting Olivier get a good sight of the passing town, her eyes of ice glued to the window. Her reflection was fierce, but she payed no mind.

"I heard they had built a town in Ishval, but I never knew how thriving it's become..." she noted, after hearing Miles's latest report on his work in the southeast.

"Yes. They have established themselves as a separate country, and also worked out a trading system with Amestris. Scar has returned to the life of a monk, while still constructing the town, building temples and schools. We're going to need a lot of them, due to the Ishvalan population rising," he explained, looking straight ahead.

"I see..." The General set her hands in her lap, taking one last view out the window. She then faced Miles. "...So leaving Briggs on pansy-ass vacation for a few years wasn't a complete and utter waste after all..."

Miles almost laughed. Those words were so fitting for the General. Instead, he settled for a faint smile, snorting to himself. "I suppose not."

A gap of silence entered the car. The driver, a soldier from Northern Command, peered into the review mirror, puzzled by the momentary quiet.

"...And what about the north? I've heard that the fort has been running into a lot more problems with Drachmans," Miles mentioned, his sights on the woman beside him.

"You heard right," she replied, voice low with aggravation. "It's one skirmish after another. The damn mongrels don't know when to back down..."

"What do you think is the cause for their sudden interest with us?" he questioned, trying to weigh the possible reasons.

"Their interest? I'm not entirely sure, but it could be due to our focuses on restoring the country and reworking relationships with other countries. They probably find this as an opportunity to pester us as they please." Olivier suppressed her growl, snarling her upper lip.

She fit her chin into her knuckles, peering out the window for a second time. "Well, that, and... I heard just recently that Drachma gained a new ruler—Czar Nicholas. The Czar before him ran for thirty years, but was assassinated, making his son the new partaker of the throne. I don't know Czar Nicholas's intentions, but it seems he doesn't want to make friends with our country."

The car's wheels hit a speed bump, the gravel from beneath the hardened rubber scraping. Still, they were fortunate that hardly any traffic hit these streets, because their vehicle was moving at the same speed as larvae.

"That's why we called a few people up here, such as you and the FullMetal Alchemist," she added. "The rumors that are going around aren't the greatest, and if they're true, then that means the brink of a war just may reach our borders."

The man's light eyebrow half-cocked in surprise. "Edward Elric is here?"

He couldn't help but think that was strange. Wasn't Edward retired from the military? The man didn't expect to see him in military matters again, but after all this time, Elric is being mentioned by his state alchemist alias, apparently up here near command.

"Yes," answered General Armstrong. "He may not be technically part of the military anymore, but that could work to our advantage. Luckily, the kid was wise enough to agree and help us."

* * *

><p>Clouds gathered over the town, producing more frothy snow for the night; as if North City needed more of the substance. Feh.<p>

Despite that, the hotel room was considerably toasty. In fact, it was blazing. Edward could hardly take it. He grunted through closed lips and rolled around in his bed, finally tearing his face from the ceiling. _Jeez, it's like an inferno in here!_

Though, it may have been his temper that raised the temperatures.

Ms. Kimblee had told them the whole sob story. Her former husband being a drunk, his violet actions against his wife and son, the turmoil as she left them—Zolf alone and raised by a new-found single father, a man of the military, a man who most likely gave the majority of his physical traits to his son. The massacre and rape his father descended upon innocent people—the arrogant man he was. The man got arrested for war crimes years later, sent to death row, only to be betrayed by his only son; the twenty-one year old refused to bail him out, though he had the power to do so. From what Ms. Kimblee has heard, her son laughed like a madman when he got the news that his father was executed. Hence, Zolf J. Kimblee was born. _Truly _born.

Edward gradually calmed himself, returning to resting on his back. The lids of his eyes lacked the ability to blink. No matter how wary Kimblee's upbringing was, he still qualified as a psychotic bastard. No, Ed hasn't forgotten. He will never forget the looks that man gave his mechanic... the look of twisted desire, a ravenous hunger. With his scaly, unyielding eyes, coiling around Winry's vulnerable form. Constricting her to her last breath. Most of all, Edward would never forget that man's merciless request: to carve a crest of blood, with no choice but to obey. Kimblee was practically holding a knife to Winry's neck, pushing the blade against her dainty, sensitive skin. Fortunately, she was much smarter than any ordinary damsel-in-distress.

Mr. Elric reached into his trouser pocket, fingers squirming in the tight space. He pulled out a square object, as thin as construction paper. His biceps stretched as he held up the picture into clear view.

Winry had been sketching out blueprints on a large canvas, her fare hand grasping the pencil as it pushed against a field of white, stopping at mid-line. She wore her beige jumpsuit, the arm sleeves tied around her waist and a green bandanna wrapped around her blonde head. Ed would certainly have to agree that her hair was a delightfully inviting feature of the young woman. She faced the camera in spite of her sitting position, flashing her upper row of teeth in a smile. At any angle, it seemed to Ed that Miss Rockbell was simply gorgeous. Her blueberry eyes twinkled, full of spirit and ardency. The shadows of sunlight outlined her ivory locks. Her heart-shaped face danced with the light as well. Edward smoothed his thumb over that face, a twitch tugging at the corner of his lips. He held the picture so dearly in the palm of his hand.

This photo of her put his frustrations at ease, every single time. He always kept it in his back pocket, taking a good look at his girlfriend's face every other night before he went to sleep. It was his pain reliever (or even security blanket), so to speak. It reminded him that he had a home to return to... and a girl waiting for him.

_**-xxx-**_

Deep in the cavernous night, a middle-aged woman crept around the hotel hallways, her footsteps sinister. In her hands was a bulky black case, heavier than one could imagine. She dragged it around until she found the perfect location. There were rings of madness inside her bright blue irises, granting her a better resemblance to her son.

She knelled down and flipped the case open with an audible _click_. From within it, sat twenty sticks of dynamite, all wired to an ominous clock. In her reach was a weapon of mass destruction. It was the worst possible treat that could be given to an ill-minded person such as her. How she had obtained it was a secret. How she was to use it would be a secret not very well kept.

Little cracks of laughter escaped her throat while she connected the wires. Preparing enough dynamite to destroy a three-story hotel building wasn't a hard task for the woman.

A state alchemist was in the building. Moreover, he identified himself as Edward Elric. She knew what needed to be done.

Ms. Kimblee set the elongated fuse. She then fled the _Bordeaux_, as quickly as she could, leaving no traces behind. The sun would rise in a few hours. By then, anyone to survive was in for a rude awakening... literally.

_**-xxx-**_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well, there you have it. Chapter two. I changed my mind a few times on how I wanted this chapter to go, and I even spent my time writing this in school... xD; At first, I wanted to write out Kimblee's back story (Kimblee is supposed to resemble his father more than his mother, by the way), but decided that it would take too long, and wrote pre-Olivier x Miles instead (as Cookie requested~! Love ya, coon). Don't worry, I plan to have more of them... if I'm up to it. Also, I wanted to speed up the action in this fic, mostly because Christmas is coming up, and I tend to have some major Ed x Win cravings for the holidays. Hence meaning that I want to post a chapter where Winry intervenes in Ed's life sometime before Christmas arrives. Which is like, next week? Ugh, I need to hurry. Enough of my rambling. Part 3 will be up soon.


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